Forbidden Fruit Read Online Free Page B

lip, long eyelashes nearly graze her high cheekbones and a rosy fever colors her cheeks.
    She is beautiful in every life, but particularly in this one. She has no idea the effect she has on humans. Boys want her but intrinsically know to stay away. For this she is innocent of all things sexual, something I find perversely satisfying.
    But duty calls, I can’t stay out here all night as I would like, admiring the view. I have orders that must be followed, and a job to do. I glance around, making sure I haven’t left any kind of trail that could lead anyone to her, and then I port myself far away from her.

Chapter 4
     
    Saturday afternoon I walked from Rose’s mansion on the battery to the shops on Market Street. It was a beautiful, sun kissed day, with sea breezes and salty air whipping down the old cobblestone roads. Most everything I needed in Charleston was within walking distance, and though I loved the Viper, it felt good to travel the old-fashioned way, with my own two feet.
    The city of Charleston is beautiful, with its historically ornate buildings, cobled streets, and gas lit street poles. There are ordinances against uber-tall buildings and modern architecture, which many of the new comers found archaic and pushed for the industrial growth of the seaport. I was glad for the stubborn Charlestonians, who managed the board of…whoever was in charge around here. I had never seen the faces of those in charge but through cocktail parties and old-lady’s gossip, I assumed they were of old southern money. Even the politician’s faces people see plastered on billboards and television aren’t really in charge. They are simply lapdogs from whoever’s pocket they feed. Unfortunately, that’s the way of the world.
    I was moving from store to store, racking my brain for what on earth to get the woman who has everything. I thought perusing the shelves of expensive boutiques would at least give me an idea, but instead, that ended up a fruitless endeavor. Most of what I found consisted of cheesy, over-priced trinkets meant for tourists with deep pockets.
    My feet needed a break after two hours of walking down the dangerous sidewalks of the city. More than a couple times, I almost took a tumble over the sneaky tree roots, slicing and snaking their way through the concrete every few feet. It was quite a challenge trying to look for shops and simultaneously watch my feet every time I took a step. In this regard, I was still an outsider. I’ve heard many Charlestonians find it amusing to watch unsuspecting tourists trip over the root-infested pavements, and then look around and pretending nothing happened. It happened to me at least once per week.
    I decided to take a detour at my favorite coffee shop to recharge my batteries. It’s a little place called Kaminsky’s. They specialize in incredible deserts and great coffee. I had a sweet tooth after all the walking and scanned their display of decadent deserts, from cakes to scones and pies. I ordered a chunky slice of lemon cake and a medium regular coffee. I loved coffee. I was especially fond of good old-fashioned brewed coffee with lots of sugar and cream. I never got into the wild flavored stuff, it just seemed wrong somehow.
    I devoured the cake faster than I meant to and was savoring the last bite when a newly familiar voice sounded from behind, “Well, if it isn’t the beautiful Lily.”
    I stiffened at first and then relaxed, recalling the delicious face that went with that voice. Before I could spin around, Jason came into view, sliding into the seat right next to me. “Well, hi there,” I greeted his grinning mug.
    “ Lemon?” He asked, “I would have thought you’d be a blueberry girl.”
    Weird comment , I thought, but I went with it, “Because of the car or the book bag?”
    A smile slowly crossed his face as he stared for a few awkward seconds before responding, “Actually, it was the eyes.”
    His bore into mine as if he could see something I